The Diary of Jean Kirschtein
by constipatedwriter
Summary: Jean is a very complex guy who just really likes to punch things, and might also be in love with Marco Bodt. The most fucked up year in the fucked up life of Jean Kirschtein (as told by his diary).


A/N: Okay, so ever since my friend PhoenixFanatic wrote a really awesome diary!fic four years ago (Diary of A Lovesick Mutant is a work of art, man), I've been itching to write a diary!fic. I've been posting this on Ao3 because I've been avoiding this site like the plague (because it reminds me of my old writing), but I recently decided to come back. Anyway, here is chapter one, the rest of the chapters that have been released so far will be uploaded in staggered timing over the next two days. Jumpforjo on AO3 is my beloved beta, she's to thank for ensuring this fic ever saw the light. I hope you enjoy. If you do, leave a comment telling me what you think! Also, the link to my tumblr (constipatedwriter) is in my profile, as well as the link to my AO3.

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**January 4**

**Dear Diary,**

Okay first off, we need to get something straight from the get-go: I am not fucking ashamed to be keeping a diary. I'm not going to call it a fucking journal or some shit. None of that dicking around.

It's a diary.

It's my diary.

People might scoff, people might scorn, but I am Jean Fucking Kirschstein and I do not bow to society, nor the ideas that it may impose upon me!

That doesn't mean I wont be hiding this diary underneath my mattress in the barracks though. I mean, diaries are for super, super secrets and all, right? I've never really had a diary before, so I wouldn't really know. Are they supposed to be hidden? Should I share it with someone? That would be fine and dandy, sharing my diary. I could host a tea party and invite the entire 104th Trainee Squad to an exclusive reading of my innermost thoughts. Wouldn't that be thought-provoking? It would certainly be classy.

And why am I talking to my diary as if it isn't there? Is that rude? Am I breaking some sort of diary-etiquette rules here?

My apologies, Diary.

I bet you're wondering how I decided to start writing in you. I feel like it's only the proper thing to do to declare my intentions of doing something before I do it. Diary, you are here to help me solve all of my problems. Well, not all of my problems. Some of them are pretty colossal (heh, see what I did there, Diary?) and can't be solved by a journal. Wait, fuck, I called you a journal.

I'm sorry Diary.

Won't happen again, I swear.

Fuck, I'm apologizing to an inanimate object.

Fuck, I'm writing down my thoughts.

Fuck, I should really stop getting distracted and tell you what problems you're here to solve, Diary.

I made a handy list for you, actually.

**ALL OF MY PROBLEMS THAT I NEED TO TALK ABOUT BECAUSE I AM A WHINY BITCH:**

1) I have extreme anger management issues

2) Humanity is about to be fucking ended by Titans and all we can do is hide and hope they're merciful and forget about us.

3) I'm in love with Marco Bodt.

Number One is… surprisingly manageable. I just need to get more patient. Marco is always going on about how I'd be a much better leader if I just managed my temper. But despite it's position on the list, Number One is not really a priority. (Okay, time for a confession. I really like getting angry. There's nothing like a nice surge of adrenaline and bloodlust running through your veins. Plus, I only really get angry at Jaeger, and his face justwants to be punched!) Number Two? Ha. Ha ha ha HA. Of all of these problems, I think that Problem Number Three is the most daunting. I mean, forget the end of my species, love is fucking terrifying. It consumes you faster than a titan ever could. Not that I've ever seen a titan… but I've heard stories about some pretty fast motherfuckers among them.

GODDAMMIT, STAY ON TOPIC JEAN. Right then, where was I? Oh, yes: Love = fucking terrifying. If I could describe love, well...love is like...love is like being dipped in acid repeatedly whilst hung from the ankles, for countless millennia, whilst listening to Reiner and Bertholdt sing never-ending drinking songs (fun fact: Bertholdt and Reiner are the most tone-deaf motherfuckers I've ever met. They can't carry a tune to save a life. Thank god they're soldiers, not singers). Love is pretty much hell, if the world we're living in isn't already hell.

But the special thing about love is that you keep going back for more, because the person at the other end is always gonna be worth all the pain. They're always going to be worth every yearning thought, every day of suffering, every ounce of angst.

Marco is worth all of it.

To be honest though, the stupidest thing I've ever done is fall for Marco. Him and his stupid hair and stupid teeth and stupid smile and all 38 stupid freckles on his stupid rosy cheeks and the way he's stupidly considerate and stupidly perceptive and stupidly taller than me and guhhh my god he's so stupid. I want to climb that stupid, well-toned body like a tree and never come down. I want to spoon him forever. I want for him and I to be cocooned in a stupid bubble of safety where nothing can hurt us and we can just be stupid and happy.

Fuck, I really need to stop acting like a pansy.

As you can tell Diary, I have it pretty bad. It wouldn't be that bad if he wasn't my best friend. I know, I know- the terribly overplayed "I'm in love with my best friend" cliche.

But heres the thing. I'm not gonna be all _"But he's my BEST FWEIND, I don't want to sacrifice our fweindship for the mere chance at a romantic relationship, nuh UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"(It took a long time to handwrite those H's, diary, and now my hand is sore. I hope you're happy.)_

I don't dig all that relationship drama. I don't dig drama at all.

I just really value my friendship with Marco. He's pretty much the best thing going on in my life right now.

Or, actually, in my life ever.

He just… he makes me feel right about myself, y'know? He makes me feel like, for even a few seconds, Titans aren't on the verge of breaching the walls and eating us all.

Like for a moment, I can believe that both of us will place in the top ten when we graduate.

Like both of us will join the military police and be safe and maybe grow old together and maybe we'll fall in love and maybe adopt a couple of orphaned children and a cat and die in each other's arms of old age.

And I really don't want to lose that.

Luckily for me, I don't have to lose that, seeing as there's absolutely no chance of him falling in love with me. He only thinks of me as a friend.

Of course, the solution to my Marco problem is simple: I have to fall out of love with him.

Now, I figure that since I've been in love with him for three years, it should take one year to fall out of love with him. And what better way to plan how to fall out of love with Marco than to make a schedule?

And so, Diary, with great fanfare, I present to you:

**Jean Kirschstein's Schedule of Doom**

**January:** Observe Marco. Watch him as he goes about his day. Accompany him everywhere. Pay attention to gross things he does. Watch him pick his nose. Watch him scratch his butt. If grossed out by him, the plan is working.

**February:** Work on anger management issues. Graduate from the Trainee Squad. Place in the top ten with Marco. Make sure our bunks are next to each other in the barracks. If an incident occurs where I accidentally roll over to his bed, just whisper "no homo" in his ear, and bam, no homo.

**March:** If still in love with Marco at this point, begin avoiding him. Avoid him for a month. Avoid thinking about him. Despite the saying, absence does NOT make the heart grow fonder.

**April:** Invite a girl or a guy out for a drink. Try and fall in love with somebody other than Marco.

**May:** Reflect on everything. Stop thinking about Marco when jerking off.

**June:** Take a long nap. A very, very long nap.

**July:** Ask Sasha and Connie for help. Write my last will and testament.

**August:** Repair the damage done by Sasha and Connie. Write Sasha and Connie out of my will.

**September:** Binge eat until my stomach hates me or until I get a good idea

**October:** Throw self off of a building.

**November:** Give up. Jerk off while thinking about Marco. Cry.

**December:** Die alone.

This plan is more titan-proof than Wall Sina.

Anyway, if my plan doesn't work, it's not like the world as I know it will end or anything. I'll just be living in the same world that i've always lived in. A world thats on the verge of Armageddon. A world where I constantly stare at my best friend's lips and wonder what it might be like to just-

Fuck.

I'm so fucking doomed.

This is going to be an interesting year, Diary.

**-Jean**

**P.S. **Jaeger is yelling about titans and revenge in his sleep again. Yeesh, what the fuck is wrong with this kid? It's the end of days, can't a man keep a diary in peace?


End file.
